I viewed in my presence My hand on my forehead And sighting the liners Of mad merchant seamen In search of the living Or the spices of China Lucy walked gently Between the damp barrels And shut out my eyes With the width of her fingers Said she'd guessed the number Of bales in the back room While the seagulls were screaming Lucy was eating Then we hauled up our colours The way the mother had told us And together we just watched the sails Lucy I said In a passage of cotton kegs Can we hold hands I'm sure that it's warmer Then the gulls ate the crumbs Of Lucy's sandwich
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